Fight or flight kicked in.
That’s when Corbin backed up, and walked out of the place, leaving his man behind.
Once more, Corbin was reminded that he’d been destroyed, and likely never being put back together again by anyone.
He raced to the street, and began puking up his coffee. His whole body retched, and he couldn’t keep the bile from rising up and making him ill.
It all came back to him.
The.
Horrible.
Pain.
Once more, he experienced the loss of his relationship and how he was going to be unable to give Will the sex he craved.
They’d won another round in the battle for his soul, and Corbin wished he’d not survived the whole ordeal. Maybe that would have been for the best.
Because he was not whole anymore.
As he puked even more, immediately, Will was beside him.
“Hey,” he said, running his hand up and down his back to soothe him.
Corbin kept puking, and as people stared, he was mortified.
And the whole time, Will protected him.
“Too many bloody Marys,” Will said, laughing while he was sick inside that he had been the cause of this—pushing the man too far.
Too fast.
It was obvious that Corbin, clearly, wasn’t ready.
His poor man simply couldn’t think about it, and that meant Will had to step up and take care of him. Sex was most definitely not happening for a while.
When he finished puking, Will held his hand, and walked him to the beach not far away. When they sat down on the sand, Corbin only said one thing.
And it was heartbreaking.
“I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I tried.”
Will pulled his head down, and placed it on his lap, so he could stroke his face and soothe him. The whole time, Corbin lay prone, wondering if he would ever get back to where he was before.
Also, he wondered if he would pay for his mistake of taking that undercover case for the rest of his life.
“I will never hate you. It’s okay.”
Corbin had tears in his eyes.
“They may never go away, Will. I don’t know how to make them go away. They live in my head. They may be what causes me to lose us. I’m damaged, and I don’t know how to fix me.”
Will let him talk.
The therapist told him that sometimes, listening was all that mattered.
“A part of me wants to tell you to leave, but a part of me wants to beg you to stay. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
